Under the Counter
by DDG
Summary: *Slash* There's a reason Charon hates Ahzrukhal...
1. Day Off

"Where's Charon today?"

Ahzrukhal shrugged half-heartedly, while a small smile played at his lips. He dug his fingers into the counter and bit his tongue—hard—before finally explaining, "I figure I can keep him happier if I give him a day off every once in awhile." One of his remaining fingernails cracked down the center as he dug harder into the bar. The patron on the other side gave Azhrukhal a look before shrugging off the odd behavior.

"I would have thought you'd be afraid to be mugged for your stock."

"It's a slow day," Ahzrukhal quipped, while inwardly struggling to continue standing up straight. "You planning on buying anything?" His knees quaked and he gripped the counter harder to keep himself steady.

"No, not tonight—."

Ahzrukhal growled. "Then _get_ already!"

As soon as the patron was gone, and Ahzrukhal knew The Ninth Circle was empty, he leaned heavily on the bar, eyes closed, and simply breathed.

"Charon," Ahzrukhal murmured, one of his hands slipping below the counter to pat his contracted Ghoul on the head, "I just want you to know that I think I'm going to give you days off more often."


	2. Little Miss Vault 101

By the time little Miss Vault 101 stumbled into The Ninth Circle for the fourth or fifth time and plopped herself down in the chair nearest Charon, shooting him surreptitious glances in the hopes that he would pay her some attention, Ahzrukhal had an idea.

So when little Miss Vault 101 finally approached Ahzrukhal, inquiring about Charon, Ahzrukhal was more than prepared to answer.

"Of course he is," Ahzrukhal said. "For a price, of course. I'm not sure you can afford him. He's very valuable to me, after all."

Little Miss Vault 101 leaned her rickety hunting rifle against the bar in order to pull out a pouch jingling with bottle caps. "I can give you 1,000 caps for him." Her eyes implored Ahzrukhal to allow 1,000 caps to be enough as she set the bag on the counter.

Ahzrukhal smiled. She really had a thing for the beast of a Ghoul in the corner. Either that, or she really needed a bodyguard. Of course, it didn't really matter to Ahzrukhal what she wanted Charon for, it simply mattered that she _wanted_ him, and that Ahzrukhal was more than willing to exploit that.

"1,000 caps, you say?" Ahzrukhal snatched the bag and pretended to consider her offer. "Well," he continued after a moment, "in this case, I will be willing to hand over Charon's contract..."

Little Miss Vault 101's face brightened and she opened her mouth to squeak out a _thank you_, but Ahzrukhal held up a finger for her to quiet.

"...as long as you can do one other thing for me."

She nodded, overjoyed, and Ahzrukhal motioned her behind the bar. She complied, like the naïve little girl Ahzrukhal had heard over and over again that she was, and Ahzrukhal immediately pinned her to the bar once she was in grabbing distance. Slipping one hand over her mouth and one under her ass, he leaned close to her neck and whispered, "It's real simple. Something I think even _you_ can handle," before latching onto the still-perfect skin of her neck and sucking.

"All you've got to do," he murmured against her reddened skin, "is get on your knees,"—little Miss Vault 101 whimpered under his hand, and he planted a kiss to her neck—"and use the mouth that God gave you."

Ahzrukhal pulled his hands away from her mouth and ass and placed them on her shoulders, gently pushing her down until her knees collapsed and she was completely beneath the bar.

And when she had undone the button and zipper of his pants and her mouth was tentatively enveloping his erection, Ahzrukhal looked a near-shaking, glowering Charon right in the eye and grinned.


	3. Anger Management

They weren't but five minutes from Underworld, hidden in the shadows of the nearby museum, when the kid turned to Charon and asked him if he liked her. She had some stupid look on her face that told Charon she'd be bawling if he gave her the wrong answer.

"I am inclined to offer my services to you. I do not necessarily have to 'like' you," Charon responded, his voice low to mask his continuing anger. Ahzrukhal was _dead_, and Charon was still _pissed_. He'd added "takes advantage of naïve teenagers" to his list of Reasons to Kill Ahzrukhal only minutes before being allowed the pleasure of murdering him.

Charon ground his teeth together irritably, still seething. Sure, Charon had done his share of downright awful things, but forcing a young girl to pleasure him was lower on Charon's moral compass than he was willing to go.

The kid's face fell at Charon's words. He rolled his eyes and drew out a breath, annoyed with her already.

"You don't like me?" she inquired, her lower lip trembling slightly. "But I... I really like you, Charon." Reaching out, she grasped his hand and managed to wiggle her fingers between his before he could stop her. "I mean, that's why I saved up enough to buy your contract!"

Except you didn't save up enough, Charon bitterly thought.

"I saw how unhappy you were working for Ahzrukhal,"--Charon watched the kid touch the bruise on her neck impulsively-- "so I worked really hard to buy you—I mean, your contract!--because I want you to be happy."

Charon took a deep breath and held it for a few moments. The kid was doing nothing to help relieve his anger. He just wanted to go kill some God damned Super Mutants or something already, not listen to this little girl _blab_ to him about how she wanted him to be _happy_.

As if he could ever be happy like _this_. Shackled by programming. Constantly the property of someone else, never himself.

"So, please, Charon," the kid moved closer, then dropped to her knees, her hands digging at his belt, already attempting to undo his belt buckle. "Let me make you happy?" His belt buckle unclasped beneath her quick fingers and the buttons to his pants followed.

She was halfway into his boxers when he let out his held breath. Rage quickly took its place. "Not knowing where _your mouth_ has been," he spat, anger shaking both his words and his body, and he pulled away from the kid's grasp.

Tears were already clouding her eyes, but he was having a hard time giving a shit. Even _dead_, Ahzrukhal was _still _managing to upset him. _God fucking damn it._

"I did it for you," she sobbed, falling back on her ass and covering her face with her arm in a feeble attempt to hide her tears.

"When did I ever say I wanted you to?" Charon snapped. "And if you think you did me a favor, _think again_."

With a horrific wail, the kid sprang to her feet and sprinted back out into the Mall. Charon, grumbling but obedient, unslung his shotgun and followed after her, prepared to kill any Super Mutants she attracted to herself.

But _fuck_ if he couldn't help but think giving blowjobs to Ahzrukhal under the bar was better than this.


End file.
